


Not of Stone

by Claire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1238056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Chris rescues Peter...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not of Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).
  * Translation into Polski available: [Nie z kamienia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452619) by [Regalia1992](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regalia1992/pseuds/Regalia1992)



> Inspired by this prompt on Tumblr from 1234halefire: Any chance of some good old 'Peter gets kidnapped and Chris rescues him' fic? :D

It's not like Peter is expecting someone to burst into the room like some sort of white knight, but four days and six different hunters, all of whom seem to have an inordinate fondness for electrocution, is starting to wear a little thin.

They're asking him questions he doesn't have the answers to (which is annoying enough, in itself), and he's pretty sure they're only doing it so they get to jab him in the ribs with 10,000 volts again.

So when he hears noises outside, he can't help but tense in preparation, because it's going to be another round of pointless questions and threats and shocks before they finally leave him hanging there trying to get the breath back through his body.

But all Peter hears are thumps and cries and the sound of shots firing and a voice that sounds like--

Peter grins.

There's another muffled thump before the door finally opens and Chris steps into the room, sliding the gun he's holding into his thigh holster as he crosses the distance between them.

"Took you long enough, Argent," Peter mutters, as Chris reaches up to the cuffs holding him to the wall.

"Well, it took me three days just to decide if you were worth the effort." Chris doesn't look at him as first one, then both, of Peter's wrists are released.

Rolling his shoulders, Peter grimaces at the ache as he steps forward, cursing as he stumbles and nearly goes to his knees before Chris is there, arms around him.

"Easy, Peter." Chris' voice is low, gentle.

And Peter's tempted to make a comment, about how Chris is never normally this careful with him when he's on his knees, but the look on Chris' face stops him. Because it says Chris was worried, says that Chris was _scared_ , and Peter's not sure if he's ready to accept exactly what that means. So he comments, light and sarcastic, because it means it'll keep the words he really wants to say inside.

"So what made you decide I was? Couldn't find anyone else willing to bend over for you?"

Chris just looks at him, looks at him like he knows exactly what Peter is doing, but is going to let him get away with it anyway. "Yes, Peter, that's exactly why I'm here."

Even though it isn't. Even though Peter knows it isn't, and that Chris is perfectly aware that he knows.

All six of the hunters that Peter had seen over the course of the previous days, plus three that he hadn't, are lying scattered on the floor as they make their way towards the exit. Even without the pools of blood surrounding each of them, the fact that Peter can only hear two heartbeats in the entire building tells him exactly how pissed off Chris must have been when he'd arrived.

The sun's bright when they finally make it outside, and Peter stops just to breathe, just to clear the scent of that place from his senses. Even though the sun is high, there's still a bite to the air, a chill that runs over Peter's skin until Chris' jacket wraps around his shoulders.

Peter glances over to Chris, a question in his eyes that he doesn't voice, but that Chris answers anyway.

"I'm not the one that's half naked with four days of electroshock fun under his belt."

And if Peter wraps the jacket further around himself, it's because his shirt got cut off him on day one and the air is cold across his skin, and not because it smells like Chris. Not because it smells like cordite and gun oil and the Old Spice aftershave that Chris insists on using. Not because it smells like safe and home and hundred other things that Peter's been denying.

"Peter?"

Chris is looking at him, hand half reaching out for him, and Peter thinks that there was maybe something he missed, that maybe the past four days are catching up to him.

"I'm fine," he says lightly, ignoring the look on Chris' face that says the other man thinks he's anything but.

"Peter--"

But Peter cuts him off, not ready for what Chris is going to say. Not here and not now. "Lead on, Argent." He doesn't wait for Chris to move before he's heading over to the monster Chris calls a truck and boosting himself into the passenger seat.

"Peter, you can't just--" Chris comments as he climbs into the truck, not looking surprised when Peter just talks over him.

"Take me home, Chris." Because Peter _can_ just. He can _just_ whatever the hell he wants. And right now, all Peter wants is a cold drink, a hot shower, and to collapse into bed for the next twelve hours.

He doesn't want to think about what it means that Chris came for him, that the bodies of nine hunters are lying behind them because Chris valued a werewolf over them. Doesn't want to think about this thing between them. About how something that started off as an illicit _fuck you_ seems to have developed into something else, into something more.

Maybe Chris hears something in Peter's voice, because he just nods, and Peter feels the truck rumble to life around them.

And when Chris takes them past the turnoff that leads to Peter's and onto the road to leads to his own apartment, Peter doesn't object.


End file.
